The Battered Priest
by WyvernRider64
Summary: Mahaad had given himself up to Thief King Bakura as a distraction in order to save Atem from an attempted kidnapping. Now weeks have passed and Mahaad has been tortured relentlessly.
1. Chapter 1

It had been a few hours since the thief had last laid hands on him. Or maybe less. Time ran so sluggishly, but the priest was thankful for every respite he got from his wicked torturer. He involuntarily let out a moan from the wounds throbbing all over his body, most recently from cuts he had received on his face. A drop of blood rolled off his chin and splattered against his bruised chest.

Mahaad had lost track of how many days since his freedom had been taken away by Bakura. More than two score days the priest managed to take his abuse. How much more though, he wasn't sure. He closed his eyes for a moment as he breathed out slowly.

When he opened them, he looked straight ahead into the mirror the thief had cruelly hung against the wall. He could barely recognize the strange face sadistically reflected to him through all the bloodied gashes and burn marks. He could only take in the awful sight for a moment before dropping his gaze.

"How pathetic I am, unable to even look at myself," he said in a strangled sob, voice cracking.

He struggled against the chains holding him against the stone wall for perhaps the thousandth time, though his efforts were fruitless as always. His arms and legs burned, rubbed raw as they were from his efforts to rid himself of his bonds.

"At least I saved Atem from whatever fate he would have suffered at that thief's hand. That's the only halfway decent thing to come out of this blasted situation."

Grimacing, the he let out a slow pain-ridden sigh. The priest let his eyes wander the small room, purposefully avoiding the mirror, trying to occupy his thoughts with ones that were not full of self-berating.

It was all a ritual by now, a constant cycle. The attempt at distractedness, the self-hatred, repeated in his small cell, day by day, hour by hour. Well, it was better than Bakura's actual torture. Anything was better than that. Nothing was worse than the icy sharpness of a clean cut across his arm, the crack of a whip moments before it flayed the skin off his back, and that grating laughter...

He stopped himself. No reason to concentrate on that and make things worse. The throbbing aches were enough to make his life difficult already. He forced the painful memories out of his mind.

"At least I'm still alive and my pharaoh is safe. That's what really matters."

The priest glanced down at his stomach as an onslaught of pangs reminded him just how hungry he was. This on top of everything else. Great.

"Forget about it," he told himself. There was no reason to torment himself further, it was time to try to rest his mind while he could. He shut his eyes, trying to block out the pain.


	2. Chapter 2

A blade clattered to the floor. The priest jolted awake, mentally preparing himself for a fight.

Unfortunately, all Mahaad's preparedness earned him was the raucous laughter of the thief. Bakura enjoying the look of dismay on his prisoner as he remembered what had happened.

"Oops," the thief chuckled. "Clumsy me. Ah well, no harm done. No, that comes next."

The priest stared at the floor in a slump.

"Unfortunate about your bad mood though magician. I feel bad for waking you. I'll tell you what. I'll play with my knives with you. That always cheers me up."

The thief snatched a clump of Mahaad's hair and jerked his head upwards. The priest winced and tensed his muscles at the discomfort.

"Come on now, I'm being so friendly and I don't even get a 'thank you?' You won't even look at me when I'm talking to you."

"Why won't you just leave me alone Bakura? Haven't you done enough to me?" he asked.

"Oh no, not nearly. Don't you worry though. I'll let you know when that happens."

He yanked the priest's hair backwards, slamming his head forcefully against the wall. Mahaad gasped with pain.

The thief smirked. "Still not yet though."

The priest grit his teeth. He refused to let Bakura bait him.

Bakura picked up the dropped knife from the ground and skillfully twirled it around his fingers. "As I was saying, I think a few knives would be very good for you."

Mahaad didn't respond.

"Oh magician you're so stubborn. I honestly thought you would have stopped rebelling by now." He licked the knife slowly, staring malevolently at Mahaad. "I guess that's fine with me. The longer you keep resisting the more satisfying it will be to finally crush your spirit."

The priest still gave no response.

"Ah well." Bakura shrugged, then swiftly drew the knife across the priest's chest diagonally.

There it was again. That feeling. That icy cold razor-sharp blade slicing through his skin. Time slowed to a crawl as the knife tear through more and more of his skin. Finally the incision was finished and that awful iciness left him. He bit hard on his lip to keep himself from screaming from the pain exploding from his chest. Blood trickled down and dripped off his chin. He became overwhelmed by the angry protests of his chest as they overloaded his senses.

Then came that terrible laugh, cutting straight through the pain. Such a terrible guffaw of a lunatic. With each laugh the priest was reminded of the perverted glee that monster drew from the pain of others. It filled him with a sick feeling on top of everything else. How could such a terrible monster exist?

Mahaad shut his eyes, trying to cope with his physical and mental agony, wishing it would all just stop.

"What's the matter prettyboy?" sniggered the thief. "Afraid of a little blood?" He pried the priest's eyes open with his hands. "Go on, look at yourself you pathetic excuse for a priest. Go on and look at what a lowlife thief has done to you."

Mahaad looked at his marred and bloodied body. These wounds were a constant reminder of the priest's failure to protect his Pharaoh. From his half-starved burned stomach to his bloodied face to his bruised chest, he saw how horribly disfigured he was. He longed to rage at his tormentor, to try to fight, yet all he could feel was despair. Any resistance he could muster was gone.

"I adore looking at my handiwork. I'd say I've done a pretty good job on you so far." The thief's lips formed a cruel smile. "Oh no, I missed a spot. I'd better fix that right away."

He dug the tip of the knife mercilessly into the priest's shoulder, causing Mahaad to ball his fists and clamp his mouth shut as he tried to control his agony.

"Stubborn, stubborn, Mahaad," he tsked as one might a small child. "It would be so much easier for you if you'd just give in to the pain. Just stop struggling and beg a little. That's all I'm asking for." He dug the blade in deeper.

Tears flowed down the priest's face as he silently fought to keep from screaming. He was overwhelmed with the pain of the knife digging into him.

"Come on magician. It's so easy."

Strong hatred grew rapidly inside the priest. None of it was his fault, he tried his hardest to protect Atem, but had to sacrifice himself instead. No, it was that vile thief who was at fault here. He was the one who tried to kill his Pharaoh, he was the caused all of this to happen. Rage bubbled up inside of him and burst out.

"Never!" roared the priest defiantly. This outburst invigorated him, yet drained his resistance as he felt his injuries much more clearly. He succumbed to the pain and slipped into unconsciousness.


	3. Chapter 3

It was all Bakura's fault. He couldn't have done anything. Right? Definitely not. Except wasn't there some chance he might have come up with a better strategy? Done something to save himself and save Atem from worrying? Maybe...

The priest woke up to that disturbingly familiar throbbing all over his body. His shoulder pained him the most. He tentatively cracked one eye open to see if the thief was still there. Good, he was gone. He examined his shoulder; it was bandaged, but that did nothing for that awful feeling. He shuddered at the memory of what that thief had done to him. That horrid jabbing pain into his shoulder. That blood-stained knife.

Why did he have to be so helpless? If only he could fight back... But all he could do was hang from the wall and try to withstand the torrent of abuse thrown at him by that thief. He couldn't even move the hot coals off of himself when they were burning skin off his stomach. He could feel the unnerving yet deceptively comforting warmth of the coal as he had moments before it was thrust onto his stomach. Then it was the searing agony! That scorching hot coal pressed up tightly against his skin! And that sickly sweet acrid smell, the smell of burning flesh, his flesh! No, no! He had to stop himself. He tried to force the horrid memories out of his mind.

Already the priest was shaking and panting in fear. The thief could come back at any time and force him to feel those coals again! No! But he couldn't stop picturing that horrid blood-chilling grin of Bakura. That racking laughter. "Oh gods damn that maniac and free me!"

Mahaad flailed wildly, pushing against the bonds that restrained him. He yelped out in agony as the shackles dug deeper into his already aching skin. His breathing became more and more frantic as he struggled to escape. He shut his eyes tight as ever more vivid and nightmarish hallucinations flashed through his mind of the horrible things that the thief had done to him.

Terrible images plagued him: of a cruel whip cracking down; of the icy yet fiery burning of a coal; of the merciless kick of that heartless fiend; of his lungs straining for air while his neck was strangled.

He shook violently in his fit the next few minutes as the unforgiving shackles cut deeper and deeper. When the visions finally subsided the priest was gasping for breath, drenched in an icy cold sweat. His cheeks were damp from involuntary tears, and his blood trickled down the shackles; his skin had been scraped off where he was bound.

He was a mess. He knew it. Much worse off than before even. He was on the verge of breaking right there again but he managed to restrain himself. He blinked away the droplets forming in his eyes.

There was no way he would submit. He needed to stay strong. He needed to hold out. For his Pharaoh. For Atem. He'd pull through and get out of there. Somehow...

He shut his eyes again and began to pray. He first apologized for his outburst and asked for forgiveness, and then prayed that Atem was safe. He wished he had the power to stop the thief and prevent him from harming anyone again. But he was so helpless hanging there.

A feeling of completely hopelessness grew inside of the priest until it overcame him. Try as he might, he could not prevent the tears that flowed out of his eyes as he cursed his fate. They came so easy, yet all they did were worsen his despair. Why must he be doomed to suffer at the hands of that monster?

He chose it himself. He knew what would happen when he saved his Pharaoh and sacrificed himself. He knew. Still, why did this even have to happen! The priest hated that vile thief for all that he was forced through in order to save his Pharaoh.


	4. Chapter 4

Footsteps echoed through the halls outside of Mahaad's cell. Each deliberate step became louder and came slower than the last. Although, maybe that was just the priest's mind already dreading what was to come. It had to be Bakura trying to frighten him, trying to get a reaction out of him. The priest mentally chided himself for becoming worried. He knew what was going to happen; there was no sense being anxious. He had to keep from giving the thief any more pleasure for his wicked ways. Maybe there was a chance he would hurt him less if it stopped being fun.

The steps sluggishly grew to a crescendo outside of the door and just out of the priest's sight, stopping with a final click. Each pump of the priest's heart sent a deafeningly loud rush of blood through his ears. Then, nothing.

A drop of cold sweat roll down Mahaad's face. He trembled and felt the beginnings of another attack coming on. Why was this happening to him? It was the thief, and he was going to come hurt him, no doubt about it, but why couldn't he control himself? His stomach churned painfully in fear of torment to come.

It was worse. It was so much worse than anything he could physically do to him. Bakura had such a huge impact on his sanity. The thief didn't even have to do anything to the priest to make him feel like he was weak. Mahaad's sole sanctuary from the thief's torture. Gone.

"Come on already," the priest managed to say, though he quaked inwardly. "Just get it over with Bakura."

"Where's the fun in that?" asked the grinning thief, as he slid into the room, tossing a knife back and forth. "You know I like to come on slowly... Oh no, what's the matter? Are you cold? You're shaking. Maybe I can get something to warm you up?"

Mahaad fought the fright growing inside of him, but his face revealed pure terror.

"Maybe another time then. That's okay. I had something else planned for us anyhow." His ceaseless arrogant smirk did nothing to help the priest's confidence.

"Don't you want to know?" He paused and waited for the response that wouldn't come. He sighed and tutted. "Well I'll tell you anyways."

The thief twirled the knife he was holding around for a few moments, dangerously close to the priest's face. "I'm going to let you go."

Mahaad blinked a few times. "You... You're what?"

"Exactly as I said," the thief said as if he were talking to an especially dull-witted child. "I'm letting you go. What? Don't you believe me? Here."

Bakura pulled a key out of his shirt and unlocked the manacles restraining Mahaad.

Mahaad fell down to his knees when released and stared confusedly at the thief. There had to be some trick. There's no way he would just let him go like this.

"As you might have guessed though, there is one provision for me letting you go."

Of course there was.

"You have to beat me in a fight. Fair enough, don't you think? If you can beat me in a fight, then I have no right to keep you locked up here. If you lose though, it proves how weak you are and that you deserve everything that I do to you." He smiled twistedly.

Fair? Bakura had to be playing with him. He was beaten up and tortured for weeks, and this was fair?

"Bakura, you can't be serious."

"Oh I'm completely serious."

The priest grunted and forced himself to stand up. He couldn't compete with the thief. He knew it. Not physically. Not like this. He didn't even have any weapons he could use against Bakura's knife. And his connection to the flow of magic around him was severed by the drink Bakura had been forcing him to take.

His shoulder slumped. It was very much like Bakura to play this cruel trick. Making him think he had a chance at getting away, then snatching that hope up at the last second.

"Whenever you're ready magician, come at me. You know what, I'm generous. I'll give you the first shot." His smirk grew.

Mahaad took a deep breath and tried to calm himself down. Getting worried now would only make things worse for him. He had to focus and fight.

It wasn't working. His mind refused to stop imagining all the horrible scenarios that could happen after he lost. No reason to drag his mental torment out. Might as well just get it over with.

He took up a half-hearted battle stance, his face painting a picture of dejection.

The thief cackled. "Your expression makes me laugh magician. You're really going to try to come at me like that? You look like you're going to fall over and start crying any minute."

Mahaad knew Bakura was goading him, trying to get a reaction. He didn't give him the satisfaction of a response; he just stared at the thief, trying to steel his nerves.

"Oh magician, you always were a funny one. Now come on, stop screwing around and fight me already."

The priest swallowed, then made a jump at Bakura. He swung his fist at the thief's face, but pulled back at the last second to try to fake him out. The thief stood at the same spot, unmoving, and started to lose his smile.

"Come on you pathetic excuse for a priest I gave you a command, now, fight me!"

Mahaad struggled to keep his limbs from shaking as he was assaulted by all the cuts on his body reopening from his sudden movements. He blinked, groaned, and tried to swing at the thief for real this time.

Bakura simply leaned backwards to avoid the punch as he said, "You're not serious. Come on magician," He sneered at him.

Mahaad was starting to get angry against his best efforts. He wanted to knock that cockiness out of the thief so badly. It would only make the thief happier though if he started to lose control. If only he could think straight. The pain was only getting worse each time he moved.

He made another move at the thief, but Bakura sliced the top of his hand with his knife as he punched at him. Mahaad withdrew in ever increasing agony, crimson lining his hand. He tried again but was met with another flash of the blade, and another cut for his trouble.

"Tch. I'm not even trying."

Damn! That thief was quick! And though Mahaad was never the quickest of physical fighters, he felt more sluggish than he ever had before. Mahaad shook his hand a few times, sending droplets of blood flying.

"This fight's going to be boring and over far too quickly if you can't do any better than that," he snarled.

The priest hesitantly moved forward for a moment, then swept his leg at thief's foot to try to trip him. Bakura nimbly jumped forward and launched his foot brutally into Mahaad's already aching stomach, driving the breath out of him.

Mahaad dropped to a knee, gasping for breath, clutching at his stomach. He didn't even notice the thief walk toward him in his desperation to fill his burning lungs with air.

"Honestly Mahaad I expected more out of you. I suppose they just let anyone become a priest, eh?" he said as he forcefully smashed his knee into Mahaad's nose.

The priest fell over on his side, stunned and overwhelmed by the flood of pain all over his body.

Bakura kicked him repeatedly as he was down on the floor, punctuating each word with another vicious kick; "I. Didn't. Tell. You. To. Stop. Fighting. You. Pathetic. Weakling. Get up." The poor magician's sobs were met with no pity from the merciless thief, as he harshly struck him again and again.

The thief raised his foot and held it a few inches above the priest's bleeding face as he watched him squirm. "You priests all disgust me. Practically worshiping your Pharaoh no matter what disgusting atrocities they've committed. And here you are using people weaker than you to make yourself stronger." He pulled his robe apart revealing the Millennium Ring he wore around his neck.

"Except you made a mistake, you tried to go after the big fish, and look what happened. Well, you don't get this power any more." He brought his sandal down onto the priest's face. Mahaad let out a muffled cry as the sole ground downwards.

After a moment of disorientation, Mahaad managed to roll onto his side and sweep his leg around, knocking the leg out from under the thief in a burst of fear, and tried to crawl away as Bakura fell onto the ground as well. This only served to infuriate the thief; He stood up with hatred burning in his eyes and knocked Mahaad onto his back.

"You pathetic priest," he said as he stepped on his face again. "Killing you now would be so easy." He bent down and grabbed Mahaad's throat, hoisting him up with a powerful grip. Bakura brought his knee up hard into his groin bringing forth a loud groan, and slammed him back against the wall.

Mahaad didn't feel fear, he succumbed the darkness growing in his vision and in his oxygen-starved mind without a thought, thankful for the relief from his torment. Everything faded until the look of fury staring him in the eyes disappeared at last.


	5. Chapter 5

The knife came down slowly; Mahaad watched as Bakura plunged it deep into his neck. The blade easily pierced the skin and continued deep inside. He closed his eyes as the blood poured into his throat, but couldn't move or make a sound no matter how hard he tried. The sharp clear pain tortured the magician horribly, relentlessly assaulting his mind with unbearable agony.

He opened his mouth and bolted awake, letting out a terrified scream. He pulled his hands up to feel his neck, but they were caught harshly by the chains. He looked down frantically, sobbing from relief when his throat was still intact.

The initial burst of happiness faded quickly; Mahaad's wounds began to throb and ache. Well, he sighed; at least he had a few moments of release. He looked around the room, but Bakura had left so he resigned himself to hanging from his chains again.

The priest hadn't gotten any better at restraining himself. He found his mind continued to wander to his tormentor Bakura's misdeeds done to him, and all that might still happen. Who knew what vile suffering that would be inflicted on him next! He felt himself start to panic again, but by clenching his fists and closing his eyes, he thankfully managed to control his fear for now. Sweat beaded the priest's face as his breathing slowed to normal.

"I just have to keep calm. I just have to control myself." He exhaled slowly and grunted as a particularly graphic vision of Bakura slicing the priest open assaulted his mind. "Why am I so bad at this? Why am I so afraid!" He pounded his fist against the wall in frustration.

Why did Bakura hate him so much? And the Pharaoh too. That thief said something about him committing horrible atrocities... He couldn't mean the creation of the Millennium items... Could he? No. How could he even know about that? There's no way that he could. But... If that's not what he was talking about then what was it?

Intense pain abruptly bombarded his senses in the middle of the thought, with wave over wave overpowering him and his mind. He couldn't think. All he could do was clench his fists and grit his teeth in frustration and agony while that awful pain enveloped him.

It was so frustrating, not being able to do anything but hang there and bear the torture given to him. And it seemed so much more agonizing than ever before, the priest couldn't even move. Was the pain getting worse, or was the priest growing weaker? What would he do if he couldn't withstand the pain any longer?

The attack began to fade after a few minutes, but it felt like hours to the tormented priest. He slowly regained his awareness, and started to shiver in fear that these attacks would become common. It would be so much worse if he had to manage with his many wounds already with his mental suffering.

After a few moments he managed to compose himself and returned to his previous pondering of Bakura's motives. He must be upset about it... There's nothing else that would make somebody so desperate for revenge that was a pharaoh's doing. But, it wasn't a pharaoh who ordered that to happen anyways. That thief must think it was Aknamkanon's doing. It would explain why he hates the pharaoh and us priests so much. But, how does he know this? Who is he?

His head throbbed in unison with his aching body. Ugh, why did it have to hurt to think too. Would it just keep getting worse like this? He had to stop himself before he caused another panic attack.

How had he become this? So weak now he couldn't even barely think without the fear of getting thrown into another terrible attack growing inside of him. He hated how pathetic he was. This time he didn't even bother to dwell on what he had turned into; he didn't even have the willpower to do that. His fear had enveloped him and made him into a worthless, empty shell of his former self. Bakura had done the worst thing he could have done, he desecrated Mahaad's own mind, his sanctuary.

As if on cue the thief entered the room, but this time he wore an unpleasant scowl on his face. Bakura strode up and smashed Mahaad's already broken nose, stunning the poor magician before he could react.

"I'm not happy priest." He emphasized this by ramming his elbow into Mahaad's ribcage repeatedly. "Your Pharaoh and his friends tried to kill me. They almost got away with it too." He kicked his foot into the priest's crotch which was met with a load groan.

"You know, he's a little clever, but not clever enough. Because when he fails, you suffer." He grabbed the magician's throat and started choking him. He held this tight grip for a few moments before he let go and allowed Mahaad gasp for breath. "No, I'm not letting you get off that easily this time. It's much too early for that."

"Bakura," Mahaad managed to sputter through his pain. "I need... to tell you something."

"Oh? The pathetic weakling has something to say eh? Come on, spit it out." He drove his fist into the priest's stomach. "Oops."

The priest moaned with the air driven out of his lungs. He fought back hard against his darkening vision and dulling mind, determined to tell Bakura he had made a mistake. After a few torturous moments of struggling for air, sweet relief flowed into his lungs, and his determination was renewed.

The magician as he determinedly tried to control himself enough to speak again through his pain. The thief seemed vaguely interested as he saw the efforts the magician was going through to talk. Usually the magician didn't bother, he just gave up a while ago and just took the torment.

After a few more aching moments, Mahaad managed to get out, "Bakura, you're making a mistake."

"Oh, I'm the one making the mistake now am I? I think you've got it backwards."

"No," Mahaad tried to take a deep breath and was assaulted by a coughing fit, ejecting a few droplets of blood in the process. After a moment he gasped, out "The Pharaoh, Aknamkanon... Didn't know about the slaughter of that village."

The thief's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about magician."

Mahaad fought back against his body, it was increasingly difficult to talk. "It was all... His brother. Died from grief after... After he found out. Didn't know about... Creation of Millennium-" Mahaad started to cough again; this time much more blood came out.

Bakura blinked a few times and grabbed the priest by the chin, forcing him to look up at him. "So the _great Aknamkanon_ was ignorant about the whole thing?"

Mahaad made a slight nodding motion; it was all he could manage to do.

The thief swallowed, blinking a few more times and stared at the wall for a few moments before his attention snapped back to Mahaad. "So I suppose you're hoping I'll spare you from torture now that your great Pharaoh is innocent?"

The priest didn't respond.

"I asked you a question." He released Mahaad's head and kicked upwards, stopping the foot a few inches before it hit his face.

He nodded with shut eyes as fresh salty tears rolled down his face.

Bakura balled his fists and stood there for a moment. "Well guess what priest. I don't care."

Mahaad opened his eyes and stared at Bakura with the utmost expression of despair and fear.

The foot collided with the priest's face, sending fresh waves of pain to him and a new stream of blood flowed down his nose.

"As far as I'm concerned the Pharaoh should be responsible for his underlings' actions. He was ignorant, but he should have known than to trust someone else blindly! Even if his brother deceived him, Aknamkanon is responsible for the slaughter of my village, 99 people! Yes that's right. I was a child in the village when they were brutally used as sacrifice to make these damned Millennium Items." He pointed at the ring he was wearing.

"You see, somebody's got to pay for this. You can't expect murders to go unpunished can you? And you know, even if you had nothing to do with it, you're still a servant of the Pharaoh, and as I can tell, pretty close with him. If an innocent has to suffer to get revenge, well... What's one life to 99? It's nothing, right? Nothing, nothing, nothing! Just like you're nothing, you worthless excuse for a priest!"

He really was insane! He was going to kill him. Mahaad knew it. The thought terrified him more than anything else had.

"B-Bakura," he gasped, his voice quavering even more as he suffered a fresh onslaught of pain. "Isn't there... Another way? Why hurt... Innocent..." He started coughing again.

"Another way other than killing _innocent_ people like yourself and your Pharaoh, correct?" His voice rose. "You think that you shouldn't suffer for what somebody else did right? Well you are as guilty as the Pharaoh. You had power, but you didn't use it to save anyone except your _precious Pharaoh_." He started to shriek hysterically, "And anyways, isn't that what life is all about? Suffering for the cruelty of others?"

Mahaad tried to speak but his mind succumbed to the pain. He wanted for the agony to stop so much; the priest was so helpless, he couldn't do anything about it. His frustration and hatred for his insane tormentor came out in a pathetic moan; it was all he could do before his vision started to fade.

Bakura saw the priest start to droop and fall off into unconsciousness, but slapped Mahaad's face, jolting him back as he shouted, his face twisted with rage. "I'm not through with you magician! Don't you dare try to get away from me! You're mine until I'm done with you!"

Mahaad fell into deep despair, cursing that he was robbed from the sweet release of unconsciousness from his misery. Why couldn't he be free of his tormentor, why couldn't he be free of his constant suffering?

The thief slapped the magician's face over and over again, and began to laugh wildly as if having the time of his life.

He really had lost it, but Mahaad couldn't even react anymore to Bakura's hysterics. He was paralyzed completely from fear and pain. Oh how he longed to be able to give the thief the revenge he deserved. Why couldn't he force himself to move? To do anything? He just wanted to give up. To close his eyes and forget all that the thief had done.

But, wait, he felt something deep inside him, a warm spark that started to grow. Was it... How could... Yes, it was his magic! He felt his magic begin to ever so slowly return to him. It was such a wonderful relief that he was finally getting his magic back. He became oblivious to Bakura's hurled insults and physical abuse, so overjoyed at his chance to fight back finally appearing to him. Yes, yes, he could feel alive again. How he had longed for the presence of magic again.

He started coughing up blood again, but after a few spasms a small smile of anticipation grew on his face that he finally could enact his revenge on his tormentor. He finally had a chance.

Bakura saw the smile on the priest's face and became even more furious. "What are you smiling at? You think this is funny? You filthy RAT! That is IT!" He slammed his fist into the priest's face as hard as he could. He drew his knife out and impaled it deep into Mahaad's stomach. He let out piercing crazed shrieks of laughter as he jerked the knife out and stabbed deep into the priest again and again.

He couldn't do it. It was just a false hope. One last chance for revenge, gone. Mahaad had one final thought as he felt himself slip into the icy embrace of death; "Forgive me my Pharaoh, I... I have failed you Atem."


	6. Chapter 6

The thief released the body and it fell to the floor. He paced around the room, muttering to himself and giggling. "It's all the Pharaoh's fault, yes, yes. He was responsible even if he didn't do anything ha ha. I'm not wrong, it's all his fault. He was the one who killed your whole village yes that's right hehehe. He... Deserved it..."

He stopped pacing and stared blankly at the wall as his rational side took over. This wasn't what he had wanted. He wanted revenge for his village, but.. he had been wrong the whole time. He was misguided, he took out his anger on someone faultless.

He fought with himself, simultaneously trying to justify and question his own actions. The thief clutched at his head and ran his fingers through his hair as his demented smile grew. Everyone deserved to die. Everybody did, they all deserved it, yes!

The thief went over to the priest's body and pulled out the blood-soaked knife His hands shook as he gazed at the knife he held a few inches from his face. The grin remained on his face, but his eyes glazed over. He turned and glanced at the mirror he had placed in the cell before walking slowly toward it. His hand reached up and smeared some of the gore on his face.

The magician rose slowly behind him, innards falling out of the gaping wounds in his stomach. The thief twirled around, laughing and leaping at Mahaad, only to see that nothing was there. The body had never moved. His momentum carried him and he fell on top of the unmoving body.

The thief giggled hysterically even louder now as he stood up. Everyone deserves to die. He looked back in the mirror reflected around him were the the villagers from Kul Elna. "Everyone does." He plunged the knife deep into his stomach and never stopped laughing.


End file.
